Cards Against Sherlock
by Sherlock221
Summary: A drunk Sherlock and John play a very interesting card game...


A/N Hello readers! I hope you enjoy this story. I know that this isn't the proper way to play this game, but this is the way I play it :) Enjoy!

Warnings: Offensive language and drinking.

Cards Against Sherlock

"I'm bored," Sherlock grumbled from his chair across from John's. His long legs were splayed out between them and he was twisting a half empty glass of scotch in his hand.

John hummed in agreement, his eyes half-closed.

"I don't know why you insisted we leave the bar early," Sherlock complained.

John had finally managed to drag a reluctant Sherlock to a bar for once. A certain bar which London's finest met up at on Fridays.

John sat up, a smirk across his face. He waved a hand in front of him to ward off dizziness. "You almost got in a fight!" He reminded, "Again.."

Sherlock huffed out an annoyed breath. "It's not my fault the idiot didn't agree with my deductions about his wife."

John pointed an offending finger at him. "You need to learn to keep your mouth shut," John stated in a stern voice, but there was a smile behind it.

Sherlock waved a hand at him.

"Want to play a game?" John asked, sitting up even straighter and balancing himself on the armrest before he fell off the front of the chair.

"You've had too much to drink," Sherlock stated, laughing.

"No shit," John agreed. "So have you."

Sherlock put up his arms in an innocent way. "That was the point, wasn't it? You forcing me to go out.."

"Well?" John inquired.

"Well, what?"

"Do you want to play a game or not?"

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. "Ahh..No. You said I wasn't allowed to play Cluedo again."

John laughed at the memory. "We could play something else."

"Like what?"

John held up a finger in front of him again. "Hang on."

He stumbled between their chairs and grabbed Sherlock's drink from his large hands on his way to the kitchen.

When he returned, he handed Sherlock a full glass again and set his own on the floor.

Kneeling on the ground, John set a black box somewhat unsteadily on the ground in front of him, frowning at his own clumsiness.

"John, why do you even own this game?"

"My sister gave it to me. Said it was a good game to play while drinking."

"Well, she would know."

"Shut up, Sherlock."

John motioned for Sherlock to come sit on the floor. Sighing, Sherlock obliged.

"'Cards Against Humanity'," Sherlock read, picking up the top of the box. "How can a card be against humanity?"

"I'll explain it."

"Can I have the instructions?" Sherlock asked, holding his hand out in front of him.

"No," John simply stated.

"How will I know how to play?"

"You're Sherlock Holmes, you know everything! Apart from the solar system. You'll figure it out."

"Or...you could just tell me."

"That too."

Sherlock scoffed, leaning against the bottom of his chair.

John gave them each 20 white cards and put all the black cards in between them.

"Alright, we turn over a black card and- Sherlock, don't look at your cards!"

"But the rules say-"

John looks down at the pamphlet and then back up to Sherlock. "How do you know what the rules say?"

"It's obvious really, John-"

John interrupted him, "No. I don't care what you deduce the rules say. We are playing by my rules."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Ok. So we turn over a black card and read what it says. Then we pull a white card from our deck and read it aloud. Who ever has the best one wins that round."

"How do we know who has the best one?"

John crossed his arms. "Just play and you'll understand."

"Fine."

John turned over a black card. "White people like-," John read aloud and laughed at the confusion on Sherlock's face.

"I don't understand."

John closed his eyes and counted to three, remembering his breathing.

"What don't you understand, Sherlock?"

"White people like what?"

"I don't know, Sherlock. That's why you need to pull one of your white cards."

Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh and took a long drink.

"Now pull a white car-"

"I understand, John!"

"Alright, alright."

Sherlock pulled a white card from his deck. "White people like," he repeated. "Roofies?"

John giggled and read his card. "Getting drunk on mouthwash."

Sherlock chuckled, throwing his white card between them. "What is the point of this, John, really?"

"Oh come on, Sherlock. It's funny!" John stated. "Which answer did you like more?"

Sherlock stippled his hands underneath his chin as he usually would when thinking, but he made an effort to show that this game takes nothing of the sort.

"Sherlock."

"Fine. The mouthwash one," Sherlock said, waving his hands in front of himself.

"Really?" John asked. "Alright." He felt surprised that Sherlock wasn't fighting with him on it.

Sherlock turned the next black card over. "How am I maintaining my relationship status? Ugh.."

John snickered. "What?"

"That question doesn't apply to me. I'm not in a rela-"

"It doesn't have to apply to you, Sherlock."

"This doesn't make any sense."

John ignored him. "How am I maintaining my relationship status?...Teenage prenancy."

"Pulling out."

John almost choked on his drink and began to laugh uncontrollably.

"That is repulsive, John," Sherlock said, chuckling himself.

John face was red when he finally got back enough breath to say, "Yours..wins."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes toward John. "I understand what that means, John," he says, gesturing towards the card.

"I didn't say anything!"

"But you were thinking it."

"It makes sense though," John says, beginning to laugh again.

"Moving on!" Sherlock says, going to clap his hands together, then thinks better of it, shrugging and taking a drink.

John does the same, flipping over another black card. "What gives me uncontrollable gas?"

Sherlock glares at him, putting his white card dramatically in front of his face. "Oh christ.."

"What does it say?" John inquires.

"Queefing."

John really does choke on his drink this time and he and Sherlock burst out into laughter.

"J-John.." Sherlock attempts to say between breaths. "This game is really horrible."

Sherlock can feel the alcohol starting to affect his head and he starts to laugh again.

"I'm not even going to fight you on that one. You win again," John states.

Sherlock holds up an unsteady hand. "Ok, one more and then we get more to drink."

"Agreed."

Sherlock flips over a black card. "What ended my last relationship? Mine says, 'fear itself'."

John puts his card up and looks up to Sherlock and back down to his card. "What ended my last relationship?" John repeats.

"Yes.. Didn't you hear me?"

"Sherlock Holmes," John answers and breaks out into another laughing fit.

Sherlock reaches over to grab the card from Johns hand, but John moves it from his reach. "That's not what it says, John!"

"Well, no, but it's true!"

Sherlock reaches for the card again and grabs it from John's reluctant hands. Putting a large hand on John's chest to keep his from grabbing it he reads, "Concealing a boner."

Sherlock face was a cross between wide-eyed shock and very, very reluctant amusement. John falls back once again in a giggling fit.

Sherlock sits up on his knees. "Well, I guess I was the better answer."

Sherlock twist around to fall beside John and leans his head back on the seat of the chair.

"We should play that more often," John says, cheeks sore from smiling.

Sherlock made a humming sound in the back of his throat in agreement, suddenly tired. His body sagged to one side, his head coming down onto John's shoulder. Normally John wouldn't have minded this so much, but then Sherlock let out a burp and John noted his atrocious breath and the smell of sick.

"All right, all right, mate," he muttered, pushing Sherlock upright and unsteadily getting to his feet.

Sherlock started awake. "Huh? Wha … where are we going?"

"You are going to the couch. C'mon, lie down." John gently nudged Sherlock down and bent down a little — then waited a moment for his head to stop spinning — to slip his hands under the backs of Sherlock's knees and ease the long legs up onto the onto the couch.

"But where will you go?" Sherlock protested, feebly attempting to resist John's arrangement.

"To my chair. I'll make do. C'mon, roll onto your side. Recovery position." John clumsily tugged at Sherlock's hip, moving his body into his side and shifting Sherlock's right arm to pillow his head. "Don't want you choking on your own vomit."

"I'll be fine," Sherlock grumbled, but made no further attempt to move from the position in which he'd been placed.

John pulled his chair over the to sit in front of the couch next to Sherlock's head and eased himself down onto it. He exhaled as he leaned back against the soft cushion. He noted that he was probably in the line of fire should Sherlock decide to vomit, but he couldn't bring himself to move another inch at the moment.

Closing his eyes, he heard Sherlock chuckling from the couch.

"What is it, Sherlock?"

"I won."

A/N Please let me know what you thought!


End file.
